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LAYS for LITTLE CHAPS 





THE LITTLE CHAP THAT RUNS THE HOUSE" 



Lays for 
Little Chaps 



BY 



Alfred James Waterhouse 




NEW rORK • new AMSTERDAM 
BOOK COMPANY • PUBLISHERS ■ MCMII 



co^ 



IBKAffV O 
CONGRESS,. 

C«-ARR ft^VXp No. 
COPY 8 



F6 3M5 



Copyright^ igo2, by 

New Amsterdam .Book Company 

in the United States and Great Britain 

Published Nonjember, igo2 



^' . All rights reserved 



UNIVERSITY PRESS • JOHN WILSON 
AND SON • CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. 






To KutJi and Dorothy 



A LIST OF THE LAYS 



Page 

The Little Chap that Runs the House ... 1 

Charlie Jones' Bad Luck 3 

A Passenger from Phantoju Land 5 

Our Hushahy Song 8 

The Baby in Pants 10 

The Land of Three Feet High .12 

Little Willie's Christmas Wish 14 

Wen I am Grovved Up 17 

Saint Santa Clans 19 

The Remarkable Tale of Miss Kitty Cat . . 21 

When the Baby Came 26 

The Baby's Remarks 29 

A Hard, Hard Citizen 31 

The Land of the Hushaby King 33 

A Very Queer Umbrella 37 

vii 



A LIST OF THE LAYS 

Page 

Fellow Came to our House 39 

How the Babies Kide 42 

O'er the Sea of Dreams 44 

The Schoolgirl that I Hated 47 

My Orful Cross-Eyed Teacher 50 

"I Love You Each Year Better" . . ... 54 

How the Flowers Grow 56 

My Youthful Pants 58 

The People of Wonder Land 60 

But Two Children 63 

My Pa an' J\La 65 

The Mournful Tale of the Snee Zee Familee . 69 

" I 'm Praying for l^ou "........ 72 

The Loving Mother 75 

The Despot Kings 80 

I Wish I was an Engineer 83 

It's Hard to Say 87 

A Little, Little Fellow 90 

The Baby's Faith 93 

When Brother Stiggins Come to Tea ... 95 

Her Faith Never Falters 99 

viii 



A LIST OF THE LAYS 

Page 

When Muther Called 101 

The Song of Songs 103 

A Song for the Babies .107 

The Little Boy Wlio Saw Santa Clans . . . 110 

She's Gone Away 114 

Oh, Little Wee Maiden 1 1 G 

The Poor Little Birdies 119 

Give Me the Fables 122 

A Song for the Little Chaps 125 

When Even Conies 127 

At the Bottom of the Sea . 129 

Dorothy's Wisdom 132 

The Teacher Knows . 135 

Swimming is n't What it Was ..... 13S 

My First Autograph Ul 

My Little Valentine 143 

Hushaby, Lullaby 145 

When Baby Bloweth Kisses ...... 147 



IX 




THE LITTLE CHAP THAT RUNS 
THE HOUSE 



THE little cliap that runs the house, 
He is a sight to see ; 
His face is as a saucer round ; 
He reacheth to iny knee. 
But when he shouts at nie, " Hey, there I " 
I know t were wisdom to beware. 

The little chap that runs the house 

Hath noises many score, 
And when I think I 've learned them all 

He springeth several more. 
Yells, whoops and shrieks to Bedlam run — 
He sayeth only : " My ! What fun ! " 

Sometimes when I awhile would write 
In some secluded spot 
1 1 



Laijs fur Little Chaps 



A-sudden Panic's frenzied might 

Dutli mingle in my plot : 
With bhire of trumpet, beat of drum, 
" Say, ain't you glad 'cause I have come ? ' 

The little chap that runs the house 

Doth never pause to dream . 
That " business " is a sacred word 

In man's sagacious scheme. 
" Up on your shoulder ! Take me ! Do ! " 
We march to shriek and mad halloo. 

The little chap that runs the house 

When daylight all hath fled 
Doth rub his sleepy eyes, and say : 

" I fink I '11 go to bed." 
Tlien by his mother kneeleth he, 
And angels heed his baby plea. 



The little chap 
His noise is 

For shriek and 
halloo 
Are tuned to 

And so I say : 

joy, 

And heed his 
boy." 



that runs the house, 
dear to me, 
i? shout and loud 



Heaven's key ; 
" God give him 




way, my little 



Charlie Jones' Bad Luck 



CHARLIE JONES' 
BAD LUCK 

As discnssed by 
little Willie 



I DON'T care if Charlie Jones 
Is better 'an I be ; 
An' I don't care if teaclier says 
He 's smart 'long side er me ; 
An' I don't care, w'en vis'tors come, 

If she on him does call ; 
He ain't got measles, like I have — 
He don't have luck at all. 



He never had the whoopiii' cough, 

Ncr mos' cut off his thumb, 
Ner ever fell an' broke his leg 

An' had a doctor come. 
He hardly ever stubs his toe, 

An' if he does, he '11 bawl ! 
There 's nuthin' special conies to him 

He don't have luck at all. 
3 



Lays for Little Chaps 



An' I don't care if he can say 

More tex's an' things 'an I ; 
He never burnt both liaiuls io once 

'Long 'bout the Fo'tli July. 
He never had the chicken pox, 

Ner p'isen oak — his' Fall ! 
He can't be proud o' nuthin' much - 

He don't have luck at all. 




A P ass ev ()<>r from Phuutom Land 




A PASSENGER FROM PHANTOM 
LAND 



A PASSENGER came from Phimtom 
Land ; 
Ho and olio ! but a sight was he ! 
^yith a voice that was merely a loud demand 

For something to eat or to drink maybe. 
A passenger came from Phantom Land ; 

A queerer and quainter you never have seen, 
With a mite of a foot and a bit of a hand, 
And I vow he was only a crying machine. 

But it 's ho and oho ! for the passengers all ! 
Pudgy and funny and dimj^led ^,_--v.^^ 
and small, / 

Who know just enough for their iJ 

mammas to call — t^-^i^^ 



Here's to them, 
they be ! 



wherever 



L a II s fo r Li ft I e Cli <(}) s 



A passenger came iVom Phantoin Land, 
Ilis baggage forgotten and left beliind. 

He had n't a stocking in wliich to stand, 

And lie eonld n't have stood if lie liad, you 
mind. 




He had n't a coat to liis blessed name ; 

He had n't a garment ; he had n't a thing. 
But, worse than all that — and I count it a 
shame — 

His hair and his teeth he 'd forgotten to bring. 



But it's ho and oho ! for the passengers (lueer ! 
The little wee despots, we welcome them here. 
The greater the tyrant, the more he is dear — 
Here 's to them, wherever they be ! 

A passenger came from Phantom Land. 

The customs officials all ])assed him by. 
He had n't a thing they could touch on hand ; 

There 's never a tax on an animate cry. 
6 



A Passe u </ c r fr o m Ph a u t o m L a u d 



But one there was greeted him, greeted him 
here 
With a kiss and a prayer that the Father 
heard, 
For these little passengers still are dear, 

Though pudgy and useless and quaint and 
absurd. 

So it 's ho and oho ! for tlie passengers wee ! 
They are dear unto you, and thcsy 're dear unto 

me. 
Each care that they bear is a blessing, you see — 
God bless them, wherever they be ! 




Lays for Little Chajjs 




OUR HUSHABY SONG 



I SING to my baby a hushaby song ; 
She sings to her dolly a lullaby too. 
"Oh, hush you," I sing, "for the sleep 
angels throng," 
But she singeth only, " Er-goo " and " Er- 
goo." 

" Oh, hush you, my dearie. 

Through all of the day 
The little feet weary. 

Wherever they stray. 
Now white angels gather 
In Sleep Country fair, 
Each sent by the Father 
To welcome you there." 
8 



Our Hiishahy Song 



So lowly I sing the even sliades tliroiigli, 
While she singeth only, "Er-goo" and " Er- 
goo." 

She sings to her baby ; I sing to my own. 

But she singeth sweeter whate'er I may do, 
For in all of life's music there soundeth no 
tone 
So sweet as a bairnie's contented "Er-goo." 
'•' So hush you, my dearie. 

The little stars peep. 
With eyes that are checiy, 

To guard you, asleep ; 
And peeping, down-peeping, 
Full lowly they say : 
* O'er Sleep's river creeping, 

One Cometh this way.' " 
One murmured " Er-goo ; " 
the elves nearer 
creep, 
And baby and dolly have 
both gone to sleep. 




Lay s fo r Little Ch ap s - 




THE BABY IN PANTS 

HE 'S a little bit of baby, 
'Bout as tall as pa's silk hat, 
An' as chubby as a cherub. 
An' you know how chubby 's that. 
Yistuday my ma, she said she 

Guessed she 'd put him into pants ; 
An' all other sights that 's funny, — 
They ain't more 'n a circumstance. 

Uncle William, lie jus' hollered, 

'Cause the baby looked so queer ; 
An' my ma she jus' kep' sayin' : 

" B'ess him ! pootsy-wootsy dear." 
But my pa, he wan't so tickled — 

Anyways, he kep' it hid — 
Fer he said : " Fer lan's sake, Ellen, 

Wat you done to that there kid ? " 
10 



The Baby in Punts 



But the baby, lie stood woiicrrin', 

Kind o' sniilin' in the sun, 
An' it seemed the brightest sunbeams 

Come to kiss tiie little one. 
An' he looked so sweet an' cunnin', 

Standin' where the sunrays glance, 
That my pa says : " I guess, Ellen, 

That we '11 let him keep them pants. 




11 



Lays fo r Little Ch aj) a 




THE LAND OF THREE FEET HIGH 

IN the Land of Three Feet High 
Very many wonders be ; 
Castles reaching to the sky, 
Elfin-haunts in vale or lea ; 
Fairy boats that ceaseless ply 
O'er the Sea of Three Feet High. 



There are giants, very tall ; 

Goblins playing in the dell ; 
Brownies, queerest folk of all ; 

More, ah, more than I can tell ; 
And I sometimes pause and sigh 
For the Land of Three Feet High. 
12 



The Land of Three Feet High 

And the people, who are they ? 

Lads and lasses whom we know ; 
But beside them, where they stray, 

We may never, never go. 
We have wandered, you and I, 
From the Land of Three Feet Hisfh. 




L3 



Lay s for Little Ch aps 




LITTLE WILLIE'S CHRISTMAS WISH 



SANTA CLAUS, he brought me a great 
big drum. 
Orto liear me play it ! Bet I make it 
lium ! 
Brought my cousiu Charlie an engine with a 

bell 
An' a reg'lar whistle that'll almos' yell. 
Brought the other fellers nices' kind o' toys ; 
Hootin', tootin', shootin', makin' lots o' noise. 
But when the fellers visit me — they do mos' 

ev'ry day — 
It 's orful diserpointin' what my pa '11 say. 
Toot, hoot, toot ! 
Bang, slam, bang ! 
14 



Little Willie's Christmas Wish 

Wile pa gits red an' redder, an' says : " Well, 
I'll be hang!" 

But nia says : " William Johnson ! Such lan- 
guage to employ ! 

Have you forgotten that you once was jus' a 
little boy ? " 

An' pa says : " S'posin' if I was, this fac' is no 
less true : 

I did n't have a license then to be a pirit, too." 



W^hat 's the use of Santa Clans if boys can't 

play 
Without tiieir pas a-gittin' red an' talkin' in 

til at way? 
Never was no fellers 'at are better 'an we be ; 
Jus' a-playin' with the things he brought to 

them an' me. 
Tootin' with the whistle, shootin' with the gun, 
Blowin' of the trumpet, havin' lots of fun. 
Shootin' at a targit, shot my pa instead — 
Orful diserpointin' Avhat my pa then said. 
Ting-a-ling-ling ! 
Toot-er-toot-too ! 
Till pa says : " Oh, blame Santa Claus ! I guess 

'at that'll do!" 

15 



Lays for Little Chaps 



An' he ketches me an' Charlie an' yanks us to 

the door ; 
An' the fellers say they'll never come to play 

with me no more. 
An' that is why I 'm wishiii', an' so I told my 

ma, 
That Santa Claus '11 bring me nex' a bran' new 

pa. 




16 



Wen I am Groived Uj) 



WEN I AM 

GROWED UP 




W 



'EN I am growed up an' am quite a 
big man 
I 'II go with a cirkis, I guess, ef I 
can — 
An' I proberbly can — an' I s'pose 'at I '11 be 
A clown er a ringmaster gorjus to see, 
An' I '11 act in a tent on mos' ev'ry night, 
An' the folks '11 say, " Goodness ! 'at feller 's a 

sight ! " 
An' they '11 yell an' hurrah jus' es loud es they 

can — 
Wen I am growed up an' am quite a big man. 

Wen I am growed up an' am quite — I don' 

know, 
Fer sometimes I think 'at to sea I will go, 
2 17 



Lays for Little Chaps 



An' I '11 be a bold pirit, to sail the seas through 
An' capture the ships as the pirits all do, 
Er a street-car conductor, er brave engineer, 
Er runnin' a candy-store mos' of the year — 
But nia says to make me a preacher 's her plan, 
Wen I am growed up an' am quite a big man. 




18 



Sal/)it San fa Clans 




SAINT SANTA CLAUS 



I ASKED a little girl one day 
Which saint she liked the best ; 
" Saint Peter, or Saint Paul? " I said, 
" Or which one of the rest ? " 
And straight she answered me : " Zere 's one 
' I likes the best, betoz " — 
Faith ! how I longed to kiss her then ! — 
" He 's dood —Saint Santy Tlaus." 

Ho, all ye ones whose heads and hearts 

Have frosted with the years ; 
So frozen that for childish faith 

You 've nothing left save sneers, 
19 



Lays for Little Chaps 



You \l better let your hearts thaw out 

By genial nature's laws, 
For she was right, the little maid : 

" He 's dood — Saint Santy Tlaus." 




20 



The Remarkable Tale of Miss Kitty Cat 





THE REMARKABLE TALE 
OF MLSS KITTY CAT 



LITTLE Miss Kitty Cat climbed my 
knee 
Last night as I sat by the fire, 
And her eyes were as green as green could be, 
(Oh, she was a wonderful sight to see !) 
And her hairs were just like wire, 
This thin and singular wire. 

But I stroked her gently, I stroked her long. 

Till her eyes grew yellow again, 
And she sung me the most rewar^able song ; 
The tune went just pur-r-ring and pur-r-ring 
along 
Till she 'd sung it thrice over, and then 
She sung it all over again. 
21 



Lay s fo V Little Chnp s 



And I wrote down that song jnst as fast as I 
could, 

For I knew that you wanted to hear, 
And I said to myself that you certainly should — 
That is, if you 're 'specially, 'specially good — 

And here is its story. Dear ! Dear ! 

A curious story, 't is clear. 



" It was only this evening " — so Kitty Cat 

sung — 
" That I walked in a wood where bad doggies 
hung 
By their necks to the limbs of the trees. 
And I laughed as they swung in the breeze ; 
For I 've always insisted — 't was plain unto 

me — 
That the place for a dog is the limb of a tree, 
The limb of a very tall tree. 
Where good little kitties can see 
How their bow-wows are choked, unless they 're 

of tin. 
And that cannot be, for they 'd have whistles in, 
And the dogs when they barked would just 

whistle instead, 
And I never have heard them ; no, never ! " she 
said, 

22 



The Remarkable Tale of Miss Kitty Cat 

" And I really don't think it can be ; 
Do you ? " said Miss Kitty to me, 
" But I ivish I could see such a tree, 

A tree, 
Such a wondeiful, heaui\{\\\ tree. 

*' There were bright yellow birds in that mar- 
vellous wood, 
And they flew to my feet from the trees, as 
they should, 
And, ' Eat us ; come eat us,' they sung ; 
(I 'm acquainted, ycm know, with tiieir 
tongue) 
And the mice all came running as fast as they 

could, 
Saying, ' Please eat us first,' and I told them I 
would ; 
I surely and certainly would, 
For mice are especially good. 
Then the mice brought me forks, and the birds 

brought me knives, 
And they all said at once, 'Please commence on 

our wives. 
For we love them so much, and we 'd give you 

our best. 
And perhaps when they 're eaten you '11 want a 
long rest. 

23 



Lay s for Little Ch aps 



Oh, they 're much better eating, you see,' 
Said those dear, loving husbands to me. 
Oh, I wish that such blisses could be, 

Could be, 
Could sure\)' and trrtainly be ! 



" But, while I was thinking of eating a 

mouse, 
I happened to notice a queer little house, 
And out came a man with a gun, 
And he said, ' I will limit your fun,' 
And he shot a queer bullet made out of Dutch 

cheese, 
And I shouted, ^ Don't, Mister! Oh, dont, if 
you please ! 
Oh, I hope you will certainly please. 
Can't you sec I am weak in the knees ? ' 
But the queer bullet chased me eight times 

'round a tree. 
And 't was gaining quite fast, as I could n't but 

see. 
And I wanted to pray, but 'Now I lay me' 
Did n't seem quite appropriate then, don't you 
see? 
And a flutter got into my heart, 
And it seemed that it surely must part; 
24 



The Remarkable 2\tle of Miss Kitty Cat 

And I waked with a terrible start, 
A start, 
And I jumped in your lap with that start." 

So that is the story Miss Kitty C^at sung, 

As she lay on my lap last night, 
And, as I 'm well acquainted with Kitty Cat's 
tongue, 

I know I have written it riglit ; 
And I 've written it all for a wee little one 

Who is dear, oh, so dear unto me, 
And if it shall please her, now that it is done, 

I 'II be amply repaid, don't you see ? 

And there 's one little thing that I almost forgot : 

Do you see what the moral is, dears ? 
Did you know what I meant, though you 'd 
much rather not, 
AA'hen I wrote of Miss Kitty Cat's fears ? 
Did you see ? You did not ? Well, perhaps 
it 's not queer. 
Though it well may appear 
so to many. 
For to me it is really remark- 
ably clear 
That the story, you know, 
has n't any. 



25 




L a ys for Little Ch ap h 




WHEN Till] BABY CAME 



WHEN the baby came tliat the white 
stork brings, 
Such a queer little baby was he. 
The quaintest and cutest of laughable things, 

He was really a marvel to see, 
For he puckered his brow, and he twisted his 

eyes, 
And first he looked simple and theu he looked 

wise, 
And the way that he wailed would cause you 
surprise. 
It was surely surprising to me. 

You see ; 
It was more than surprising to me. 
26 



When the Baby Came 



When the baby came 'twas his grandma said : 
" I 'm sure that he looks like his ma ; " 

But his Aunt Angelina insisted, instead : 
"I'm certain he favors his pa." 




But the baby he wriggled his little red toes, 
And he wailed that he wanted to get in his 

clothes, 
Which was perfectly proper, as you may suppose, 
For he 'd left all his clothing afar 

In the star 
Where all of the wee babies are. 

When the baby came there was somebody said : 
" May the Father my little one bless ; " 

And a kiss, like a blessing, fell soft on the head 
Of the darling she yearned to caress. 
27 



Lays for Little Chaps 



But the baby he heeded nor blessing nor prayer, 
As lie blinked at the light with a meaningless 

stare ; 
Yet I 'ni sure the petition was registered where 
There is One who is able to bless, 

And I guess 
That in answer He stooped to caress. 



28 



The Baby' a Remarks 




THE BABY'S REMARKS 



THERE is nobody knows tlic things I 
tliink ; 
There is nobody knows, I guess, 
As I lie in my crib and blink and blink, 
With my wee little brain a-kink, a-kink 

With the notions I can't express. 
There is nobody knows what I try to say, 
As I lie in my crib and talk this way : 

Goo, goo, goo, goo — 
A toe is a thing to eat — 

Goo, goo, goo, goo — 

It 's really remarkably sweet. 
29 



Lays for Little Chaps 



Tlie nurse took a sticking thing one day 

And pinned a jacket to nie. 
I am not a talker, but I do say 
That I made them take it away, away, 

For I cried, and I cried, you sec. 
There is nobody knows what I say, no doubt. 
But I notice tliey got that sticker out. 

Goo, goo, goo, goo — 

I guess that ray head I '11 bump — 
Goo, goo, goo, goo — 

When I do, watch the big nurse jump. 




30 



A Hard, Hard Citizen 




A HARD, 
HARD CITIZEN 



YOU 'RE a hard, hard citizen." So I 
said, 
And he freely admitted that it was so. 
" You turned my muciUige into the bed, 

But rubbed some part in your hair, you know. 
You hid my slippers and then forgot, 

And the place where you put them still 
puzzles me. 
You 're a hard, hard citizen, are you not? " 
And he smiled as he answered, " Yeth, I be." 



" The faucet you turned of the coal-oil can. 

Till the floor was drenched by the oily flow; 
And you chuckled in glee as the liquid ran. 

Now answer me straightly : Is n't it so ? " 
But tlie criminal neither did shudder nor shrink, 

As he murmured, " A 'tory p'ease tell to me." 
"You 're a hard, hard citizen, don't you think ? " 

I said, and he smiled as he said, " I be." 
31 



Lays for Little Chaps 



" Your grammar is faulty I 'd faiu suggest," 

I said to the criminal on my knees ; 
" It would not endure the least critical test ; " 
And he answered, ''Now tell me a 'tory, 
p'ease." 
Now what could I do? — I leave it to you — 
For he 's callous in guilt as the worst of the 
lot. 
And that he seems hardened is dreadfully 
true — 
So I told him the story. Now, would you not ? 

I told him the story, and then I said : 

" You 're a hard, hard citizen, one can see," 
And he answered, " I be," and tiien he pled : 

'' Now p'ease, won't oo tell 'nuzzer 'tory to 
me i 
Oh, I guess that my discipline 's sadly at fault, 

For I told him a story, the peace to keep, 
And he murmured low, when 1 seemed to halt : 

"Now tell me anuzzer," then went to sleep. 




32 



The Land of the Hushaby King 




THE LAND OF THE HUSHABY 
KING 



OH, safely afloat in a wonderful boat, 
From over tlie Sundown Sea, 
When the tide swings slow and the 
breeze chants low 
In marvellous minstrelsy, 
There cometh, there cometh the Hushaby King, 

And dreams are the elves that creep 
Close, close by his side on the Sundown tide, 
As he singeth my babe to sleep : 

''By, oh!— by, by, — we shall go sailing, 

sailing ; 
Swing low, swing high, over the Dream Sea 
trailing, 
3 33 



Lays for Little Chaps 



With elves of the Dreamland about us a-wing." 
This is the song of the Hushaby King. 

Oh, little blue eyes, the stars in the skies 
Of the Dreamland are strangely aglow, 
And the moon is the queen of a fairyland 
scene, 
To watch o'er the children below ; 
And your boat 'mid the islands swings lazily 
o'er 
Where the mermaids in happiness throng, 
And, down where they dwell, 'neath the surge 
and the swell. 
They are singing a lullaby song : 

" Sleep, dear ; sleep, sleep, rocked on the rest- 
tide billow ; 

While near creep, creep, elves to thy downy 
pillow ; 

You shall be soothed by the flutter of wings." 

This is the song that tiie mermaiden sings. 

Oh, the far-away strand of the Hushaby Land 

Your little white feet shall press, 
And the birds of the air shall welcome you 
there 
To blisses no mortal may guess. 
34 



The Land of the Hushaby King 

On wonderful trees sliall the candy-fruit grow ; 

Plum cake to the bushes sliall cling ; 
And no one shall cry, *' Don't touch them ! 
My, my ! " 

For the dream-fairies ever will sing : 

'' Yours all, yours, dear ; all to be had for the 

taking ; 
Babes small, babes queer, just give the trees a 

good shaking ; 
For candy in Dreamland 's a very good thing." 
This is the song that the white fairies sing. 

Oh, far-away strand of the Hushaby Land, 

If I could but go, could go 
Where my baby doth float in the Lullaby-boat ; 

If I could her rapture know 
As she laughs in a dream that comes through 
the night, 

A dream of the elfins at play ! 
But she drifteth from me o'er the Hushaby Sea, 

And aye to myself I say : 

" By, oh ! — by, by, — bonnie one, drifting, 

drifting ; 
Swing low, swing high, safe on the sleep-tide 

shifting." 

35 



Lays for Little Chaps 



And my heart doth reply, though closer I 

cling : 
" She is safe in the arms of tlie Hushaby 

Kins." 




36 



A Vert/ Queer UiiihrcIIa 




A VERY QUEER UMBRELLA 



THIS very morn, upon the street, 
A big umbrella I did meet. 
At first I thought it walked alone, 
Though such a thing 1 *d never known ; 
And then — my pencil pardon begs — 
I saw it walked on two plump legs. 
So strange a sight filled me with awe, 
And so I peeped beneath and saw — - 
37 



L a y s fo r Little Ch ap s 



Saw two bright eyes that laughed to mine 
Saw two cheeks, red as sun-borii wine ; 
A tiny mouth, just tit to kiss ; 
Two dimples, Cupid's home of bliss ; 
A forehead white, with locks of gold — 
Ah, I am sad and gray and old, 
And much I wished — my heart 's so lone • 
That queer umbrella were my own. 




38 



Felloiv Came to our House 




FELLOW CAME TO OUR HOUSE 

FELLOW came to our bouse and said he 
guessed he 'd stay ; 
Dreadful inconvenient to let him have 
his way — 
Had no room for boarders, did n't have a bed — 
Tried to argue with him, and this is what I 
said: 



" Hey, there, little chap, 
Come and visit me ! 
Humpty-bumpty , j umpty-d umpty 
On your father's knee ! 
39 



Lays for Little Cliaps 



Have you made arrangements 
To pav for board and cheer ? 

You '11 find them unavailing, 

For we don't take boarders here." 

But though my argument was sound, as I sub- 
mit to you, 

I think he meant that he would stay when he 
replied, " Goo-oo ! " 

Fellow came to our house, and some one 

talked this way : 
"' He 's such a itty-witty that I guess we '11 let 
him stay." 
I could n't see the logic, but she pressed the 

tiny head 
Still closer to her bosom, and this is what she 
said : 

"Itty-bitty felly! 

B'essed baby boy ! 
Come to b'ess his mamma, 
Come to b'ing her joy ! " 
And then a tear down-starting 
Her loving glances blurred ; 
But her lips kept moving, moving, 
Though she did n't say a word. 
40 



Felloiv Came to our House 

And I knew a prayer she offered — and an 

angel heard it, too ; 
But the baby nestled closer and only said, 

"Goo-oo!" 




41 



Lays for Little Chaps 




HOW THE BABIES RIDE 



HERE 'S the way the babies ride : 
High-low, high-low, 
Sitting their papa's foot astride — 
High-low, high-low. 

First they go up, and then they go down, 
Shrieking with laughter, their fears to drown. 
Oh, but the horse deserves renown ! — 
High-low, high -low. 

42 



How the Babies Ride 



Here 's the way the babies ride : 

Bj-Iow, by-low, 
Floating away on the Dream Sea tide — 

By-low, by-low. 

Safe where the Sleep-boat lazily swings, 
Dreaming of beautiful, wonderful things, 
Lulled by the song that Somebody sings : 
By-low, by-low. 




43 



Lays fo r Llfile Ch (tp s 




O'ER THE SEA OF DREAMS 



O'ER the Sea of Dreams to the sweet 
Dreamland — 
Oh, little my love, come hither, T pray, 
And place in my own your wee white hand, 

And we will go sailing away, away, 
Down a path of gold by the Isles of Rest, 
O'er the slumbrous depths of the Sundown 
Sea, 
To the land of lands that we love the best, 
Where dream angels whisper to you and to 
me. 

44 



O'er the Sea of Dreams 



O'er the Sea of Dreams — Oh, little my love, 

Closer yet creep to this heart of mine. 
While lowly the dream angels hover above 

And there in God's meadows the star-blos- 
soms shine. 
Under your eyelids the visions shall creep — 

Little one, little one, what shall they be ? 
Something to cause you to smile in your sleep, 

Nestling yet closer and closer to me. 



O'er the Sea of Dreams to the sweet Dream- 
land — 

Oh, little my love, what dreams they nmst be ! 
Such dreams as a baby may understand ; 

Queer little fancies, as all must agree ; 
Little half notions, or foolish or wise ; 

Wee floating fragments of babyhood lore. 
These are your dreams, as I sagely surmise — 

Heigh-ho, my little one, what are mine more ? 



O'er the Sea of Dreams; and who's at the 
helm. 
Oh, little my love, noi- you nor I 
May wisely tell, for the Sleep King's realm 
Is hidden by njists from the passers-by. 
45 



Lays for Little Chaps 



It is hidden by mists, yet myself I tell, 

While your eyelids flutter like petals of 
white, 

The One who is guiding will guide her well — 
So, little my love, good-night, good-night. 




46 



The Schoolijirl that I Hated 




THE SCHOOLGIRL THAT I HATED 



SOiMETLMES when memory draws the 
veil, and I look back a way 
To where the sun was shining in my 
happy, youthful day, 
I catch the scent of lilacs as they blossomed by 

our door, 
And I hear the robins chirping as they used to 

chirp of yore. 
And the oriole is flitting like a ball of living fire, 
And the river 's sort o' whispering just as though 

't would never tire ; 
And then, amid the faces that on memory's 

screen I see, 
Comes the schoolgirl that I hated when she sat 
in front of me. 

47 



Lays for Little Chaps 



Someway I see her plainly now in scanty dress 

of blue, 
With eyes in part coquettish and in part serene 

and true ; 
With curls that liked to catch the light and 

twist it in and out, 
And lips just right for kissing, if they were in- 
clined to pout. 
I knew that she was pretty, but I said she was 

no good — 
Though I could n't help admiring her ; no boy 

that 's human could — 
But she made up faces at me, and she could a 

vixen be, 
The schoolgirl that I hated when she sat in front 

of me. 

She would n't play at marbles, and she could n't 

play at ball. 
And I often intimated that she was no good at 

all. 
I dropped a cricket down her back in cheerful, 

boyish way. 
And she yelled first ; then I yelled next, when 

teacher was to pay. 
She would n't " coon " a melon, though I asked 

her oftentimes, 

48 



The Schoolgirl that I Hated 

And she ridiculed my first attempts at poor and 

broken rhymes. 
Oh, she was a thorough failure, as any boy can 

see, 
The schoolgirl that I hated when she sat in front 

of me. 



She beat me at the lessons that we found within 

our books, 
And when she went above me all scornful were 

her looks ; 
But when the teacher whipped me I saw her 

cry one day, 
And I said that " girls is better yf^^ 'T \ 

than what some fellers K\\\\ll'^'' 

,.,;" jM^m, 

And I sort of half forgave her for 

her lack of hardihood, 
Though I even then insisted that ' '" 

she really was no good ; 
But times have changed since 

then, for 1 — I'm mar- 
ried, don't you see, 
To the schoolgirl that I hated 

when she sat in front of 

me. 




49 



Lays for Little Chaps 




MY ORFUL CROSS-EYED TEACHER 



ONE time I had a teacher — I 've had 
them every kind, 
But this partic'hir teacher was dis- 
tractiu' to my mind. 
Of course all sorts of teachers is disturbin' to a 

boy, 
For they 're always interferin' when he wants to 

have some joy ; 
But this partic'lar teacher lie was worser than 

the rest, 
For there wan't no way of figgeriu* on the im- 
pulse in his breast. 
An' when he looked mos' pensive, then he'd 

light upon me iiot, 
My orful cross-eyed teacher what I never have 
forgot. 

50 



My Orful Cross-eijed Teacher 

There wa'n't no way accountin' for the vag'ries 

of that man ; 
There wa'n't no cunnin' little boy could quite 

foresee his plan. 
With liis eyes both turned on heaven, he 'd seem 

about to pray, 
An' then you 'd best go mighty slow ; he 'd 

prob'ly come your way ; 
An' when his eyes seemed sot an' fixed some- 
where about his toe, 
Then, if you pinched another boy, you gen'ly 

stood no show, 
For he 'd prob'ly land upon you, or he would as 

like as not, 
This orful cross-eyed teacher what I never have 

forgot. 

One time that I remember, I remember very 

well, 
I wrote a note to Ethel Moore, my longin' love 

to tell ; 
An' the teacher he was gazin' on the fiir-off, 

promised land. 
So I fired that note at Ethel — well, it landed 

in his hand ; 
An' from the subsekent events I smarted fore 

an' aft, 

51 



Lays for Little Ch ap s 



An' my heart it also smarted when I noticed 

Ethel lafFed. 
Oh, he wrenched my young affections an' he 

jarred my spine a lot, 
That orful cross-eyed teacher what I never have 

forgot. 

I throwed a wad at Charlie Jones when 

teacher's eyes was cast 
Upon a hoss an' wagon that jus' then the win- 
der passed. 
Of the epersode that follered I am still ashamed 

to tell. 
For the teacher used his ruler, an' I — I used 

a yell. 
He was a diserpointin' chap, that pedergog, I 

swear, 
An' when he looked straight at a thing he 

was n't lookin' there. 
Because of him my youthful days was triberla- 

tion-shot, 
This orful cross-eyed teacher what I never have 

forgot. 

Oh, good an' noble little boys what still by 
school are vexed, 
52 



My Orfiil Cross-eyed Teacher 

If you will listen to mj words I '11 surely put 

you " next," 
For one day a glad discovery sung a siren song 

to nie : 
When the teacher looked right at nie, what I 

did he did n't see. 
Oh, good an' noble little boys who watch the 

master's nod, 
When the cross-eyed teacher 's lookin', then 's 

the time to fire the wad. 
This grain of wisdom garnered served to cheer 

my weary lot 
With the orful cross-eyed teacher what I never 

have forgot. 




53 



Lays for Little Chaps 




"I LOVE YOU EACH YEAR 
BETTER " 



I'M twelve years old to-day," she said, 
I kissed and held her nearer, 
For every year that onward fled 
Had made her but the dearer. 
" I 'ni growing quite a girl, you see," — 

My hand reaehed out to pet her — 
" But then, you know, it seems to me 
I love you each year better." 
34 



"/ Love You Each Year Better 



Now tell me, you who sup with care 

As time grows ohl and okler, 
Could lips a sweeter message bear 

When hearts with age turn colder? 
So, little love, my soul shall pray, 

As years our life-links fetter, 
That T may always hear you say : 

" 1 love you each year better." 




55 



Lays for Little Chaps 




HOW THE FLOWERS GROW 

DO you know, darling, how pansies 
grow ? 
God takes tlie tints of the sunset 
glow, 
The purple that floats in the mountain mist, 
The blush of a maid by her love first kissed, 
The blue that 's asleep in the midday skies, 
The brown that I love in my baby's eyes, 
And He mingles them all in a flower ; and so, 
That is the way that the pansies grow. 

Do you know, darling, how lilies grow? 
God takes the soul of the beautiful snow 
And moulds it into a clialice sweet, 
Pure and wonderful, fair, complete ; 
56 



Hoiv the Flowers Grow 



Then He takes the gold of my baby's hair 
And sets it amid the whiteness there, 
As in night's white skies the bright stars glow; 
And that is the way that the lilies grow. 

Do you know, darling, how roses grow? 
Ah, that is the strangest of all, I know ; 
For they are the fairest of all things fair, 
The one perfect blossom, beyond compare ; 
Symbol of sweetness and all loveliness — 
God wished His children to comfort and bless, 
And He wrote the thought in a flower ; and so, 
That is the way that the roses grow. 




57 



Lays for Little Chaps 




MY YOUTHFUL PANTS 



COME back, come back, my youthful 
pants ; 
Come back, come back to me, 
For nevermore by any chance 

Your equal I shall see. 
My mother made them ; I recall 

How wondrous was their fit. 
For I was some six sizes small 
Into the things to " git." 

She made them out of father's pants ; 
The bosom was his size. 
58 



My Yo u t hfii I Pa n t s 



The sight of nie in tlieni bj chance 

Would fill you with surprise. 
They hung straight from my shoulder-blade 

In folds beyond belief, 
And when the eastern zephyrs played 

I had to take a reef. 

And, oh, my youthful heart would swell 

Beneath tiie fearful brunt 
Of feeling that no one could tell 

AVliich side I wore in front. 
I still remember 1 would use 

The slack in carrying chips, 
And when to raise it I did choose 

My face was in eclipse. 

And all the little boys I met 

Would, joyous, 'round me dance 
And cry in tones I can't forget : 
" Where did you git them CIT 
pants?" T 

Oh, trousers dear of long ago ; 

Oh, panties wild and free. 
Where you have gone I long 
to know ! 
Come back, come back to 
me ! 



59 




Lays fur Little Chaps 



^ rf\^ir^ .^K ^r^- 




THE PEOPLE OF WONDER LAND 

HAVE you ever beard tell of Wonder 
Land, 
Of the dear little^ queer little, comical 
band 
That stumble and fumble and want to know 
Where they are going and why they go ? 
They sit in our laps as the eve grows dark. 
And they take the shape of a question mark. 
For all that is written in face or eye 
Is wholly expressed by the one word, " Why ? " 



" Why don't the sun burn up some day ? " 
" Why don't we fly, as the birdies do ? " 
" Why don't the chickens and hens eat hay ? ' 
60 



The People of Wonder Land 

'' Why do the scissors cut things in two ? " 
Such are the questions of Wonder Land, 
Of its dear little, queer little, comical band. 

These are the people of Wonder Land : 

Queer little duffers as tall as your stand. 

Wee little fellows who want to know 

More than the wisest can tell, I trow ; 

For the world is so big, and the world is so 

strange ; 
Its paths are so hidden as onward they range. 
That who dares to wonder — 't is surely not I — 
They look in amazement while questioning, 

" Why ? " 

" Why are the stars put out in the day ? " 
" Who is it lights them when night comes 
down ? " 
" Why don't my nia have whiskers, I say ? " 
" Why are tlie houses all built in town ? " 
These are the things they cannot understand, 
The odd little people of Wonder Land. 

Oh, little wee people of Wonder Land, 
There 's one thing [ wish you could understand : 
We folk who are older are not so wise 
We can answer the questions in your dear eyes ; 
Gl 



Lays for Little Chaps 



For really, you know — it is certainly true — 
In the Country of Wonder we live with you ; 
And if any can answer, 't is surely not I, 
For T, too, am lost in the maze of " Why ? " 

Why have I come from the mists of There ? 

Why am I lost in the mists of Here ? 

What is the gain in the burden we bear? 

What is the end that is glimmering near ? 

And if these be not questions of Wonder Land, 

The difference, my bairnies, I don't understand. 




62 



B u t Tic Ch i I d r e n 




BUT TWO CHILDREN 



THEY grow so weary, the little feet, 
With their day-long, ceaseless 
hurry ; 
So when there conieth the even' sweet 
When we bury the haunting worry, 
She patters to me, and, wistful eyed, 

Siie says : " I am finkin' maybe 
You '11 hold me to s'eep, an' my dolly beside, 
Betause I am just oor baby." 

Then I hold her a time, till her head droops low 

And her soul creepeth out to the shadows ; 

63 



Lay s for Little Ch ap s 



And she and her dolly together do go 

To the Dreamland's star-flecked meadows ; 

And, holding her so, I am glad to know 
She is safe from the outside weather ; 

And sometimes I say in a dreamy way : 
" We are but two children together." 

We are but two children. At even' we 

Are ^vearied alike by the hurry, 
And we long for the rest that shall set us free 

From the daytime's care and worry. 
And as she creeps to her father's arms, 

Still holding her dolly near her, 
And as I guard her from all alarms 

And tenderly soothe and cheer her, 

So do I turn, though I hold life's toys 

Closer and closer unto me, 
To the One who heedeth our woes and joys 

For rest and for strength to renew me ; 
And as my darling ne'er pleads in vain. 

With soft baby prattle, " P'ease hold me," 
So do I whisper, through toil and through pain 

" The arms of His love do enfold me." 




31 y Pa an' Ma 




MY PA AN' MA 



MY pa he is the wises' man, I s'pose, 
you ever seen ; 
He knows jus' why mos' all things 
is, an' knows jus' what they mean. 
He knows a heap more than my ma, 'cause he 's 

a man, you see ; 
He ain't a woman like she is, though tol'ble 
good to me ; 
5 65 



Lays for Little Chaps 



But when I ask him questions 'bout the things 

I 'd like to know, 
He sort o' scowls at nie at firs', an then he 

answers so : 

" Do go away ! 

Don't bother me ! 
I 'ni busy now ! 

Say, can't you see ? " 

But when I ask my ma, why, then she allers 

ans'ers me. 
I 'tl learn a sight if she knew things almos' as 
well as he. 

AVhen pa an' INIr. Jones sits down an' talk an 

hour or less, 
I wish the Presiden' could hear : he 'd learn 

some things, I guess, 
'Bout why the country ain't worth shucks, an' 

why it orto be. 
My pa he makes them things so clear that even 

I can see. 
He proves how everything should be, an' how 

it 's all amiss. 
But when I ask him questions, then he answers 

me like this : 

66 



My Pa an Ma 

" Oh, run away, 

You foolish lad ! 
Questions like yours 

Will drive me mad ! " 

But ma, she tells me all she knows, an' that 

much has to go. 
I wish she knew as much as pa, fer then I judge 

I 'd know. 

An' yet my questions all is 'bout the things boys 

like to know. 
I asked him once, I recollec', why things I drop 

don't go 
Up in the air instead of down, the way they 

allers do ; 
An' once I asked if God gits tired of holdin' 

office, too. 
The way men never docs, pa says. I ask such 

things as these. 
But pa, he scowls an' says, although I ask him 

with a " please : " 

"Oh, run away !" — 
An' then I 'm fired — 

*' Questions like yours 
Do make me tired ! " 
Q7 



L a ys for Little Ch ap s 



But ma, she ans'ers all she can, an' holds me to 

her breast. 
I guess my pa does know the mos', but ma, she 

loves me best. 




68 



The Mournful Tale of the Snee Zee Famllee 




THE MOURNFUL TALE OF THE 
SNEE ZEE FAMILEE 

THERE was a little yellow man whose 
name it was Ah Clicu, 
And every time that Mongol sneezed 
he told his name to you. 
This funny little yello\y man had wedded Tish 

Ah Chee, 
And they, when certain time had passed, had 
children one, two, three. 
There was little Ah Cheu 
And Tish Ah Tsu, 
And the baby was named Ker Chee, 
And their Uncle Ker Chawl 
And his wife were all 
69 



Lay s for Little Ch ap s 



Of the Snee Zee fain-i-lee, 

And when the mama stood and called her chil- 
dren from the door, 

You would laugh and laugh for an hour and a 
half if never you laughed before. 

" Ah Cheu," she 'd say in her feminine way, 
" bring in the little Ker Chee, 

And Tish Ah Tsu, bring him in, too, to the 
Snee Zee fam-i-lee." 



Alas and alack ! but my voice will crack as the 

mournful tale I tell. 
To that sweet little band in the Mongol land a 

terrible fate befell. 
On a sunnuer day in a sportive way they called 

one another all. 
And over and o'er the names they bore they 
would call and call and call. 
They called Ah Cheu 
And Tish Ah Tsu 
And the baby Ker Chee, Ker Chee, 
And their Uncle Ker Chawl, 
They called them all. 
Till they 're dead as the dead can be. 
Ah Cheu was tough, and was used to snuff, so 
he lived at his fate to scoff, 
70 



The Mournful Tale of the Snee Zee Familee 

But the rest arc dead, as I 've heretofore said, 
for tlieir heads they were all sneezed oft". 

And this is the tale I have tried to wail of Ah 
Cheu and his little Ker Chee 

And Tish Ah Tsu and Ah Chee, too, of the Snee 
Zee fam-i-lee. 




71 



Lay s for Little Ch aps 




"I'lM PRAYING FOR YOU" 



THERE 'S a qimint little letter that lies 
on my stand, 
A quaint little letter in old-fashioned 
hand. 
It is lacking somewhat in rhetorical grace, 
And its capital letters at times lose their place. 
It scarcely would bear the most critical test ; 
Yet of all correspondence I hold it the best, 
For it ends — ah, in love it was written all 

through : 
" Remember, my boy, that I 'm praying for you." 
72 



"I'm Praying for Yo^ 



" Remember, my boy " — Oh, an old boy am I, 
With a head that shines back to the laugh of 

the sky, 
But to her I 'm " my boy/' and I always will be 
Till the white angel steps 'twixt my mother and 

me, 
And longer ; the love that has* guarded my way 
I know will not cease at the close of the day, 
But will whisper me still from the infinite 

blue : 
" Remember, my boy, that I 'm praying for 

you." 



" I 'm praying for you " — God knows we all 

need 
That some heart of love to the Father shall 

plead. 
For our feet will but stumble on life's weary 

way, 
And we frequently find that we 're sadly astray. 
We say to our spirits, " Be brave and press on," 
But the spirit will faint, and the soul will grow 

Avan ; 
And then comes the message, our strength to 

renew : 
" Remember, my boy, that I 'm praying for you." 
73 



Lays for Little Chaps 



Remember ! Oh, mother, I could not forget ; 
Still the dear, loving message my lashes will 

wet, 
As I read it here written in old-fashioned hand 
In the quaint little letter that lies on my stand ; 
And in fancy I see you, as often of old, 
When love kissed your face into beauty untold, 
As you knelt by my cot — With eyes strangely 

dim, 
Your boy does remember you 're praying for 

him. 




74 



The Loving Mother' 




THE LOVING MOTFIER 



SHE had been a loving mother and a very 
faithful wife ; 
She had reared their seven children and 
had fitted them for life, 
And through all their days of childhood she had 

taken little ease, 
For whene'er she thought of resting, it was, 
"Mother, won't you please — 
75 



Lays for Little Chaps 



" Won't you please to fix my bonnet ? " 
"I say, mother, where 's my hat?" 

" Put this piece of ribbon on it." 

" Won't you fix my doll like that ? " 

So, from six o'clock of mornings until ten 

o'clock at night. 
She hurried, as though resting were a thing that 

was n't right ; 
And they said, the while she wearied in the 

ceaseless toil and strife : 
*' She is such a loving mother, and she 's such a 

faithful wife ! " 

Of course they loved her greatly, as bairns and 
husband should ; 

As she grew thin with slaving they would mur- 
mur, " She 's so good ! "' 

But when, at times, a moment just for rest she 
fain would seize, 

(Of course they were but thoughtless) it was, 
" Mother, won't you please — 

" Won't you mend this hole? It 's shocking." 
" I say, Sarah, where 's that pail ? " 

" Won't you please to fix this stocking? " 
" Can't you make my boat a sail ? " 
7Q 



Tlie Lo V i n g Mo ther 



And so, by mending, cooking, and a tlionsand 

labors pressed, 
She never quite could find the time to take the 

needed rest. 
But e'er, as she grew thinner in the constant toil 

of life. 
They said: "She's such a mother, and she's 

such a faithful wife ! " 

One day this little woman felt sadly w^orn and 

tired ; 
She could n't labor for the rest, although she 

still desired. 
They bore her tenderly to bed ; she w^cakened 

by degrees. 
And the house seemed half deserted with no 

" Mother, won't you please — 

"Won't you please?" — The words unspoken 

Yet she heard in fitful dreanis, 
As they knew by many a token, 

By the fever's prattled themes, 

Till one morn the great white angel took her 

gently to his breast. 
Whispering softly, " You have labored. Lo, I 

give to you my rest." 

77 



Lay s for Little Ch ap s 



Once she sighed, "How will they — manage?" 

Then she faded out of life. 
She was such a loving mother and was such a 

faithful wife. 




Sometimes I close my eyes and try to dream of 

her at rest, 
And finding life is easy in the country of the 

blest ; 
But it 's difficult to fancy, for in those white 

courts of ease 
Ofttimcs, I judge, in dreams she hears, " Now, 

mother, won't you please — 
78 



The Loving Mother 



" Won't you step down here a minute ; 

Tliey can spare you up tliat way ? 
Here 's this work ; I can't begin it — 

I am needing you to-day." 

Then, perhaps, she starts, and whispers to some 

angel fair and white : 
"Oh, this resting 's pleasant, pleasant; it is 

sweet, but is it — right ? " 
For how can she in a moment break the habit 

of a life ? — 
She was such a loving mother and was such a 

faithful wife. 



Lays for Little Ch aj) s 




THE DESPOT KINGS 

DO you know of the Despot Kings that 
stray 
Out of the Land of the Ear-Away 
Into the Country of Now and Here, 
Despots and tyrants all, but dear? 
Do you know the blink that means, " Obey ! " 
And the midnight clamor that brings dismay 
To the subjects forlorn, who natheless spring 
To do the will of the Despot King ? 



Bundle of wriggles and wails and twists ; 

Vacant of face and eye ; 
Helplessly beating with Lilliput fists — 

Who doth the Kings defy ? 
80 



The Des2)ot Kings 



Once I was fief to a Despot King, 

And my heart bowed down like a broken 

thing, 
For he ordered me out wlien the night was 

chill, 
And I said, "I will not; " and he said, "You 

will!" — 
Oh, spare me the tale that is old, so old. 
For ever and aye till the stars grow cold 
The children of men must tribute bring 
To the midnight throne of a Despot King. 

Scanty in wisdom and strong of lung ; 

Living to sleep and cry ; 
Standing the pygmies and elves among — 

Who doth the Kings defy ? 

Once I was fief to a Despot King, 

But the hours and the Seasons onward swing ; 

And out of my life he passed one day. 

And the world was dark, and its skies were 

gray; 
And now at the last I know full well 
That all of peace for my soul did dwell 
In the baby voice that made me spring 
To do his bidding, my Despot King. 
6 81 



L a 11 s Jo r Li til e ( ' li up a 



Fair as a lily ; white and wco ; 

lloKliiii; my heart in thrall ; 
(,)h, <;lu)sts 1)1" tiic long dead years, to luc 

My Despot King recall. 






82 



I Wl.sh 1 Was an Eagineer 




I WISH I WAS ANENGINKI^]U 



TWISII I was an engint'cr. I t^ucss TM 
lik(! to stand 
In tlio cabin of an engine, with a tliing- 
unibol) in liand, 
And when 1 \\ \)\\\\ tliat thingunihoh the engine 

then wonld go 
Out, out into the night-time wlieii the stars is 

liaugiii' h)w ; 
I 'd sec tlie lights of houses goin' gleaniin' gleuni- 
in' past, 

83 



Lay s for Little Ch ap s 



Like a last-campaign percession when it 's 

walkin' niiddlin' fast ; 
And then I 'd pull the whistle-string an' hear 

the engine say : 
" Hey, there ! you little mites of men, you 'd 

better clear the way ! " 
I would n't mind just loads of black upon my 

face and clothes 
If I could be an engineer, the land o' goodness 

knows ! 

I wish I was an engineer. Then boys would 

look at me, 
An' say : " Hey, Jimmy, here 's de chap wot 

runs de engine. See ! " 
An' then I 'd pull the whistle-string an' never 

smile a bit 
When that big noise would scare the boys 

almost into a fit. 
Because I 'd know, as engineers, I guess, 'most 

always do, 
That if a noise scares little boys, they 're apt to 

like it, too. 
Just whiskin' through a hundred towns, straight 

onward hour by hour, 
While all the time the ceaseless " chug " beats 

out the Song of Power ; 
84 



/ Wish I Was an Engineer 

Oh, you ^Yill talk admirin' of your Kings and 

Czars, maybe — 
To be an engineer, you bet ! were good enough 

for me. 




I wish I was an engineer, to sit there like a 

Turk 
An' smile to see the fii'eman sweat while doin' 

of the work. 
I s'pose that Emp'rers has a snap, to which, of 

course, they 're born, 
But if I was an engineer I 'd look on them 

with scorn. 
Just sittin' in my cab up there and listenin' all 

the time 

85 



L a ys for Little Ch ap s 



Unto the constant " cluig-chug-cliug," tliat 

ceaseless, mighty iliyme, 
And knowin' that a hundred lives was trusted 

unto me, 
I guess I 'd feel a sense of power ; I 'd catch the 

music's key 
And hear it singin' in my soul as down the 

world I 'd go, 
If I were but an engineer — But, then, I 

ain't, you know. 



86 



It 's Hard to Say 




IT'S HARD 
TO SAY 



I MISS tlie patter-patter 
Of the tiny little feet ; 
I miss the prattled chatter ; 
I miss the kisses sweet. 
But I guess that Heaven 's lighter 

For the babe I laid to rest, 
And some angel's face is brighter 
As she holds her to her breast. 

I knew not how to spare her ; 

E'en yet my heart is numb, 
For life held nothing fairer — 

Oh, wayward tears that come, 
Periiaps the Father sought her 

For His own home of light 
Because He felt without her 

No Heaven were perfect, quite. 
87 



Lays for Little Chaps 



Sometimes from life's long battle 

I turn, and sit a while, 
And seem to hear her prattle 

And see my darling's smile. 
And then I say, " It 's better. 

She missed the weary fray 
And Worry's chain and fetter ; " 

But, oh, it 's hard to say. 




It 's hard to say, for ever 

My heart will listen still 
For prattle sounding never, 

For baby laughter's trill : 
And where the shadows gather 

I look to see her stand — 
My darling with the Father — 

And reach to take her hand. 

I guess that Heaven 's fairer 
Because my babe is there, 

But, oh, this life is barer, 
With naught to lighten care. 
88 



It 's Hard to Say 



I try to say, " It '« better," 
But, tliough my lips obey, 

They speak but form and letter, 
For, ob, it 's bard to say. 




89 



Lay s for Little Ch up s 




A LITTLE, 
LITTLE FELLOW 



THERE 'S a little, little fellow, and he 'a 
really very small, 
For he measures by my table and he 
is n't quite so tall ; 
And this little, little fellow in the evening 

seeks my knees, 
And he says: " Now won't oo tell me jus' the 

nicest 'tories, p'ease ? " 
And then I tell him stories that I would n't 

dare to say 
Are of the usual run of things we meet on 

every day ; 
And the last thing that he asks me is, with 

story-telling through, 
" Now does 00 'pose when I 'm growed up 
I '11 know as much as oo ? " 
90 



A Little, Little Felloiv 



Oh, little, little fellow, who sit upon my knee, 

I know how all misplaced is this, the faith you 
rest in me. 

My wisdom is a fiction, and my stock of knowl- 
edge small ; 

Like you, I guess the Father knows, and He is 
over all. 

I stumble on the journey, and I falter as I go, 

And where the days shall lead me, I never, 
never know. 

But, though I'm all unworthy of your faith, it 
cheers me, too, 

With " Does oo 'pose, when I ni growcd up, 
I '11 know as much as oo ? " 



Oh, little, little fellow, I really hope you will. 

I want to feel when I leave off you '11 be ad- 
vancing still ; 

And if sometimes I half have seen a light be- 
yond the mist, 

I trust that by its purest rays your pathway 
may be kissed. 

But, whatsoe'er the years may bring, and what- 
soe'er their lore, 

Someway I 'm hoping here to-night, as I have 
hoped before, 

91 



L a II s fo r Little Ch aps 



That you may keep some part, at least, of faitli 

in me you knew 
Wlien oft you asked if" When I 'm growed I '11 

know as much as oo." 




92 



The Baby's Faith 



THE BABY'S FAITH 




WP] stood the otlier night before 
The little cottage that is lioiue. 
I listened to her baby lore 
About the stars in yonder dome. 
'T was baby prattle, yet I guess 

Perhaps she knows as much as I — 
This side she knows a little less, 
But more of things beyond the sky. 



Then, while she prattled on, a star 

A-sudden gleamed adown the world, 
As if some angel from afar 

A lance of flame had earthward hurled ; 
And baby looked, with sagest nod, 

As if to say : " I see — I see ; " 
Then smiling said : " I dess 'at Dod 

Is frowin' stars down here to me. ' 
93 



Lays for Little Chaps 



And tlieu she paused. A mighty thought 

Was struggling in her baby mind : 
Suppose such fusillade were fraught 

With danger, as she lialf opined, 
What then ? what then ? At this " suppose " 

The blue eyes wide and wider grew ; 
Then faith spoke out : " I dess Dod knows 

He won't hurt baby — now don't 'oo ? " 

Oh, little one, my little one, 

Give me the faith so wholly thine. 
When life's skies darken and the sun 
Is hidden from this soul of mine, 
And when God's missiles from His 
sky 
Rain on my life-path, blazing, all, 
Let faith to doubting then reply : 
" No harm from Him shall e'er befall." 




xA.nd little one, my little one, 

If this sweet faith may ne'er be mine ; 
If still through fog of doubt I run 

And fear to trust the love divine, 
Yet none the less for you I pray — 

The heart speaks, though the lips be dumb — 
That Faith through all life's strife may say : 

'' From Him, from Him no harm shall come." 



94 



hen Brother Sfiggins Come to Tea 




WHEN BROTHER STIGGINS COME 
TO TEA 



WHEN Brother Stiggins come to call, 
lie gen'ly stayed to tea ; 
An' ma would wash our faces all, an' 
frequen'ly spank me, 
An' then she'd say, " You mus' be good, an' set 

still in your cheer, 
An' not ask twice fer things to eat when Brother 

Stiggins 's here." 
An' then we \1 go to table, an' the parson, he 'd 

ask grace, 
An' 'bout that time my brother, he would make 
an orful lace ; 

95 



Lays for Little Chaps 



Then I M jus' snicker, an' my ma — you ort licr 

look to see, 
Wlien Brother Stiggins come to call, an' when 

he stayed to tea. 

I s'pose the grace he alters said wus full ten 

minutes long, 
An' all the time his voice would sound a good 

deal like a song. 
He'd ask the Lord to kindly heed the heathen 

in distress 
Who can't git chicken-pie like ours, an' other 

things that bless. 
An' then he'd say: " Eft ain't too much, jus' 

bless our Congress, too ; 
We know, dear Lord, there ain't a thing that 

You hain't power to do ; 
An' bless us common folks — "An' then my 

brother, he 'd hunch me, 
An' 'neath the table we would tight, when he 

had come to tea. 

An' then he 'd say : " Dear Lord, forgive these 

wicked little boys 
Who seem possessed, by Satan's power, to make 

a dretful noise. 

96 



When Brother Stiggins Come to Tea 

Oh, let thcni not go down in wrath to wicked- 
ness an' sin, 

An' 'specially, dear Lord, forgive the one that 
kicked my shin." 

An' when that grace wus ended, then my ma 
would leave her place, 

An' say, " Excuse me w'ile I 'tend to these here 
younguns' case." 

An' then she 'd take us to the shed, my brother 
Joe an' me. 

An' argue with us with a strap, when he had 
come to tea. 



I don't blame ma ; I never did. We'd act like 

ail possessed ; 
An' course it 's wrong to make a row when 

things is bein' blessed ; 
An,' too, it 's right to ask a grace, fer grace is 

what we need 
To git along with folks we meet an' not run all 

to seed. 
But, still, consid'rin' that us boys wus pretty 

middlin' young, 
An' scein' that the parson's prayer wus mighty 

nearly sung, 

7 97 



Lay s for Little Ch ap s 



I now contend, an' allers shall, although per- 
haps I 'm wrong, 

Wlien Brother Stiggins come to tea his grace 
wus too blamed long. 




98 



He r Fa i t h Ne r e r Fa Iter s 




HER FAITH NEVER FALTERS 



MY little daughter comes to me, 
And whispers, " I am sorry ; " 
And I — I take her on my knee 
And tell her not to worry ; 
And then I kiss her, and she knows 

How tenderly I love her. 
We 're just two children, I suppose ; 
I not a whit above her. 

And then she lays her cheek to mine, 

And says, " I love you dearly ; " 
And in my eyes the teardrops shine — 

My heart will act so queerly. 
She says, " My papa is so good," 

Though T 'm unworthy of her. 
Dear little type of maidenhood, 

I love her, oh, I love her. 

L.oiC. 9« 



L a ij s fo r Little Cha p s 



I think sometimes I 'd like to i^o 

And tell her, " I am sorry," 
For, oh, my feet do falter so 

'Mid life's unending worry. 
Dear, loyal heart ! Suppose I should, 

(I have done so — or nearly) 
She 'd only say: " My papa's good. 

I love him, oh, so dearly." 

So, 'mid the storm of life and years, 

My little daughter's kisses 
And loyal faith have dried my tears. 

And cares exchanged for blisses. 
And, as T write, if tears will start, 

They 're tears of gladness merely. 
For these words bless my weary heart : 
" I love my papa dearly.' 




100 



When Mother Called 




WHEX xMOTHER CALLED 



M 



OTHER used to come and say: 

" Come little boy ; it 's time to rise. 
Wake ri<^Iit up without delay ; 
Shake yourself, and rub your eyes." 
An' I'd say: "Huh! Wha— Ye-c-es," and 
then — 
Go right oflf to sleep again. 

Soon she 'd come again and say, 

Just as gently as before : 
" Wake, and see this lovely day. 

Don't go to sleep, dear, any more." 
An' I 'd say : "Yes — I 'm — coming; " then — 

Go right off to sleep again. 
101 



Lay s for Little Ch ap s 



Did n't matter though ; no less 
Patient, gentle, kind was she 

When she came and said : " I guess 
My little boy asleep must be." 

An' I said : " I '11 — get — up," and then 
Went right off to sleep again. 



Then my father came to call. 

'T was but little that he said ; 
Just one word, and that was all, 

Just one word, and that, " A\-fted /" 
Just one word, you see, but then — 

I did n't go to sleep again. 



Just that difference ! 
But, you see, 
I 'vc been thinking, 
here alone, 
Could my mother now 
call me 
fn tlie gentle, loving 
tone 
Of the past, I 'd wake, 
and then — 
I would n't go to 
sleep again. 




102 



The Song of Songs 




THE SONG OF SONGS 



WRITE me a song," said the Master, 
" tliat sliall ring through the lialls 
of time ; 
A song that shall thrill my ehildren and urge 

them to deeds sublime." 
So the poet touched his wonderful harp and 

sung in a minor key 
How out of Earth's care, and its travail, the 

soul rises pure and free ; 
How under the face of laughter there throbbeth 

the heart of pain, 
Yet he who doth battle and conquer, the 

heights of the blest shall gain. 
He sang of the lesson of sorrow, the meaning 
of trouble and tears, 
103 



Lays for Little Chaps 



And the guerdon that comes to the faitliful 
after the strife of years. 
But the Master stood unmoved. 

Then the poet struck his harp again, a wild, 

triumphant hiy 
That told of the nations' battles, their ceaseless 

strife and fray ; 
And through it one saw the armies as they 

marched and countermarched, 
And heard the groans of the dying, the gnrgle 

from lips pain-parched. 
Then he told in a sweeter, gentler strain that 

ravished the listening ear 
How the dear God loves His children, and cares 

for their struggles here, 
Anil how He will guide and lead them, after 

the toil and strife. 
Gently, oh, gently upward to the wonderful 
' Hills of Life. 
But the JNIaster stood unmoved. 

Then the poet's soul was weary, and he sung 

of the brood of care 
Who dwell in the haunts and purlieus, with 

Want as a spectre there ; 
104 



The Song of Songs 



And the song that lie sang was tragic ; it 
sobbed with a chord of pain 

For the haunted, the starved, the weary, whose 
tears fall down like rain ; 

And under the throbbing music was a male- 
diction heard 

For those who have wronged His children, and 
eyes with tear-drops blurred. 

There was loathing and stern abhorrence for 
these, the favored few, 

Who heed not the old, old message : Do as 
ye 'd have them do. 
But the Master stood uiunoved. 



And then through the open doorway stole the 

sound of a childish voice, 
Ringing in happy laughter, nuiking the soul 

rejoice, 
And the poet caught its music, for the laughter 

was dear to him, 
And ills heart breathed out its story, though 

his eyes with tears were dim ; 
And, oh, the wonderful music ! It reached to 

the blue sky's dome, 
Telling of peace and gladness in the beautiful 

Land of Home, 

105 



Lays for Little Chaps 



Of the dear little feet tliat patter, of the lips 

that our own caress — 
For the poet for<;ot his heartache when his 

little one came to bless. 
And the Master's eyes were dim. 



l-i^-^^^. S*if .^'lys 




106 



^1 Sony for the Babies 




A SONG FOR THE BABIES 



NOW here is a song for tlie babies, who 
Are dreadfully puzzled just what to 
do 
With their ten little fingers and ten little toes, 
Their two little ears, and their one little nose, 
And their queer little mouth, down under their 

eyes, 
Which they open to laugh, and straightway it 

cries, 
To the total surprise, and the wonder and 

doubt 
Of the wee little babies I 'm singing about. 
107 



Lays for Little Cliaps 



A song for the babies who lie and blink, 
And really imagine they 're trying to think, 
Thinking of tilings they can't understand, 
Of why they can't eat each ciiubby, fat hand ; 
For they eat it, and eat it — it cuts such a 

'' figger " — 
And the more that they eat it, the more it 

grows bigger ; 
And this is enough, past a question or doubt. 
To puzzle the babies I 'ni singing about. 



A song for the babies who laugh and coo 
As only a baby knows how to do, 
And they talk in a language none understand 
Save those who have travelled in Babyland ; 
And the ones who have travelled, the babies 

know. 
Are only the mammas who love them so ; 
Though sometimes a papa can half make out 
The coo of the babies I 'ni sinfrins: about. 



A song for the babies — God bless them all, 
So pitiful helpless, so daintily small ; 
Who only can wonder what all is about, 
The hurry and bustle, the worry and doubt ; 
108 



A Song for the Babies 



Who only can wonder, and never can know 
Till dawnliglit has foded and morning dews go. 
The babies, whose laughter sets trouble to 

rout — 
God bless the wee babies I 'ni singing about. 




109 



Lays for Little Chajis 




THE LITTLE BOY WHO SAW SANTA 
CLAUS 



THE chimney was so narrow, and the 
cliininey was so small, 
And Santa Glaus had grown so fat 
through summer and the fall, 
That when he brought his Christmas pack to 

give the youngsters cheer 
He just looked at that chimney, and he said : 
" Oh, dear ! Oh, dear ! " 
110 



The Little Boy in ho saio Santa Claus 

And little Willie Wiijgins, who was listening 

in his bed, 
Was very sorely troubled for he heard what 

Santa said, 
Till a pleasant thought came to him, and a 

happy smile he wore 
As he said: " I guess I '11 'vite him if he won't 

come in the door." 



So little Willie Wiggins, in his little nightdress, 

crept 
From out the cosy nest in bed where mamma 

thought he slept ; 
And the little bare feet pattered across the 

frozen floor ; 
And the little fingers fumbled at the cold lock 

of the door; 
And the bolt squeaked out in anger : " I will 

never ope, because — "' 
Just then the door flew open wide, and there 

stood Santa Claus ! 
Such a funny, funny fellow, and with such a 

cheery grin. 
And Willie's heart went pit-a-put as he said : 

" P'ease come in." 
Ill 



Lays for Little Chaps 



Then Santa Clans stepped back and tied his 

reindeer to a post, 
While Willie stood beside the door and froze 

and froze, almost. 
His face just beamed with laughter as straight- 
way he came back ; 
And you should have seen the presents in his 

lovely, lovely pack ! 
And he picked up Willie Wiggins and hid him 

in his coat, 
And Willie merely said, " My-ee ! " his pleasure 

to denote. 
He really was so happy that he could n't well 

say more 
At sight of all the presents Santa spread upon 

the floor. 

Then Santa kissed him gently, and said : " Why, 
bless your heart ! 

It 's getting very, very late ; I fear that I must 
start, 

For I 've many, many presents for a million 
children more. 

Where the chimneys are not narrow, as I ascer- 
tained before." 

Then he hurried through the doorway, and he 
scampered to his sled ; 
112 



The Little Boy tv/io Saw Santa Clans 



And Willie heard the sleigh-bells as he pattered 

off to bed, 
And in his dreams throughout the night he 

wore a smile, because — 
He was the only little boy who e'er saw Santa 

Claus. 




113 



Lays for Little Chaps 




SHE'S GONE 
AWAY 



LIKE to take her in niy arms ; 
Like to soothe her as I did, 
Shielding her from wee ahirms, 
On my loving bosom hid ; 
Wish that I could hear her voice 

Ringing out in baby play, 
Calling on me to rejoice ; 

But I can't — she 's gone away. 



Sorry that sometimes I said, 

" Do go 'way ! You bother me." 

Now there 's quietness instead. 
And I long to bothered be. 
114 



She 's Gone Aivay 



Why, I 'd give the best I know 
Just to hear her romp and play, 

And I 'd let my writing go, 

But I can't — she 's gone away. 

There were roses, great an' small, 

In her hand that day — that day ; 
She the sweetest bud of all — 

And she bothered me ! I say ; 
Used to bother me ! when I, 

I would give the daylight's grace 
Just to hear her romping nigh, 

Making riotous the place. 

House is very quiet now, 
Very orderly and neat, 
Toys not lying anyhow, 

Pitfalls for my careless feet ; 
No one comes to worry me 
In my work, though 
oft forbid, 
Clam'rous for a thron- 
ing knee, 
But I wish — I wish 
she did. 




115 



Lays for Little Chtvpn 




OH, LITTLE WEE MAIDEN 

OH, little wee maiden, who sit and sing, 
Rocking yourself in a rockaby chair, 
What do the eltins who lazily swing 
On beams of the sunlight whisper you 
there? 
What do they whisper, that straight from your 
heart, 
A smile, creeping upward, illumines your 
eyes ? 
What do they weave in their magical art 

From gossamer strands that they steal from 
the skies ? 



Dreams of the future, castles that stand 
In the beautiful world of a far-away land ; 
Castles of crimson and purple and gold ; 
Dreams that the wonderful morrows enfold. 
116 



Oh, Little We e Ma idc 



Oh, little wee maiden, the elfins take 

The gold of the sunset, the crimson of skies 
That blush into sleep ere the morning shall 
wake 
The world, oh, the world that is weary and 
wise ; 
And the gold and the crimson they build into 
dreams, 
Into castles of splendor your eyes to delight ; 
And the moonlight or starlight still sparkles 
and gleams 
On jewels God strikes from the bosom of 
night. 

Sheen of the moonlight on diamonds of dew. 
All shining bright, little maiden, for you. 
AH of the morrows still reaching away 
Nothing can bring like the dreams of to-day. 

Oh, little wee maiden, your song sinketh low, 

For the fairies of dreamland are calling. 
And soon shall my little one drowsily go 

Where the sleeptide is rising and falling ; 
And the elfins that swing on a tremulous 
beam. 
The last of the day that is dying, 
117 



Lays for Little Chaps 



Kiss hands to you still in the vanishing gleam. 
" Good night " and " Good night " they are 
sighing. 

Elfins will go and the dream fairies stay ; 
This it is comes at the close of the day. 
So come to me, little one, e'en as I wi-ite ; 
One sweet kiss, my darling ; one more and 
— good night. 




118 



The Poor Little Birdies 




THE POOR LITTLE BIRDIES 

THE poor little birdies that sleep in 
the trees, 
Going rockaby, rockaby, lulled by 
the breeze ; 
The poor little birdies, they make me feel 

bad, 
Oh, terribly, dreadfully, dismally sad, 
For — think of it, little one; ponder and 

weep — 
The birdies must stand when they sleep, when 
they sleep ; 



And their poor little legs — 

I am sure it is so — 
They ache, and they ache, 

For they 're weary, you know. 
119 



Lays for Little Ch ap s 



And that is the reason that far in the night 
You may hear thetn say, " Dear-r-r ! " if ycni 

listen just right, 
For the poor little birdies that sleep on the 

bough 
Would like to lie down, but they do not know 

how. 



Just think of it, darling ; suppose you must 

stand 
On your wee brown legs, all so prettily 

planned ; 
Suppose you must stand when you wanted to 

sleep, 
I am sure you would call for your mamma and 

weep; 
And your poor little legs, they would cramp, I 

have guessed, 
And your poor little knees, they would call for 

a rest : 



And you 'd cry, I am sure, 
For so weary you 'd be, 

And you 'd want to lie down, 
But you could n't, you see ; 
120 



The Poor Little Birdies 



And that is the reason why we should feel 

bad 
For the poor little birdies, who ought to be 

glad, 
For they want to lie down as they sleep on the 

bough ; 
They want to lie down, but they don't know 

how. 




121 



Lays for Little Cliaps 




(JIVE ME 

THE FABLES 



GIVE me the fables, tlie old folk-lore 
Of the beautiful, mythical time, 
When I dreamed that the world was 
bright before 
And its hills were easy to climb ; 
When Santa Claus came — I knew that he 
did — 
My quota of presents to leave, 
And his sleigh-bells jingled my dreams amid, 
On the wonderful Christmas Eve. 

Give me the fiibles — Oh, never a doubt 

Puzzled my sister and me ; 
We were certain that Santa was roaming witii- 
out, 
And we laughed in our infantile glee 
122 



Give Me the Fables 



Till iiiotlier came suf'tlv, and said : " You must 
sleep, 
For Santa won't come till you do.*' 
(Hi, that was a statement to make the flesh 
creep, 
So we tried liard to sleep — would n't you ? 






Give me the fables. Don't tell me our bliss 

Was wholly a fanciful thrill, 
For the morning brought proof of his visit, I 
wis, 

Though you may dispute if you will. 
The engine that tooted, the ball that we threw, 

Till it knded the china amid — 
If Santa Clans brought not these gifts to us 
two. 

Will you please just to mention who did ? 

Give me the fables. Gray phantoms, at best. 
Are the things that we label as real ; 

Our gold endures not in the ultinuite test, 
And fame is a mocker, we feel. 
123 



I J (I y s fo r Li I tie Ch (( p s 



But the cheer aiul the joy of tlie girl and the 
boy — 

Oh, Life, you liave tauglit me tliis : 
While others may grasp at your shining alloy, 

I will hold to the fable of — bliss. 



124 



A Song for the Liit/e Chaps 




A SONG FOR THE LITTLE CHAPS 



HERE is a song for tlie little cliaps, 
The little wee fellows who don't 
know why 
The round world turns ; and I guess, perhaps, 

That neither do you and neither do I. 
Here is a song for the comical mites, 
Round and rosy and fat and sleek, 
Who gaze in amaze on the world's queer sights ; 
And here is the blessing I cannot speak. 

Here is a song for the ones that gaze 

In queer consternation on finger and toe, 
And note they are moving in speechless amaze, 
And wonder who wound them and made the 
things go. 

125 



Lays for Little Ch (ip s 



The dear little fellows who deem mother's 
breast 

Is all of the world, and a good world, too, 
I am singing to them, while they lie at rest ; 

And really what better is there to do? 

Here is a song for the babes that stand 

Nearer to God than the grown folk do ; 
Fresh little buds from the Heaven-land 

Who deem that the world is fair and new. 
Bundles of helplessness, dearer than all 

Yet born of the morning and kissed by its 
dew ; 
Feeble and wondering, blinking 
and small, 
Babes whom I love, I am sing- 
ing to you. 




126 



When Even Conies 




WHEN EVEN COI\IES 



WHEN the even comes and the anj^els 
light 
Their kunps in the fields of heaven ; 
When the wee birds twitter : " Good night, 
good niglit ; 
It is rest time and nest time — 'tis even," 
Oil, then to their mothers the children creep, 

For the poor little bodies are wearv ; 
And they sing them and croon them all soundly 
asleep : 
*' Oh, sleep thee, my dearie, my dearie. 

" Sleep thee, darling, sleep thee well ; 
Rock upon the Sleep Sea swell, 

Lost each baby sorrow. 
Rest and peace press down thine eyes ; 
Angels guard thee from the skies — 
Thou shalt wake to-morrow." 
127 



L(i i/s for Little Ch up s 



When the even comes and our labor 's done, 

And we 're worn with our life's endeavor ; 
When faint is the light of our setting sun, 

And our hands are enfolded forever, 
Oh, then to our Father we children creep, 

For our hearts are so weary, so weary, 
And we hear His low voice through the life- 
giving sleep : 

" Oh, rest thee, my dearie, my dearie. 



" Rest thee, darling, rest thee well ; 
Here do love and blessing dwell. 
Lost each childish sorrow. 

Lo, I hold thee to 

my breast ; 
Rest thee, dear 
one, sweetly 
rest — 
Here is Life's 
to-morrow." 




128 



.4^ the Bottom of f/ic Sen 




^- c 



AT THE B(3TT0M OF THE SEA 



DO jou tliiuk you 'il like to be at the 
bottom of the sea, 
With the pollyhiukus swinging all 
around, 
And the gogglers, with their eyes big as 
mamma's custard pies, 
And the winkus that goes crawling on the 
ground, 

And the spry, 
(Oh, my eye !) 
The spry, spry, spry, 
The very, very, very, very, spry springaree 
That slides through the glare of the water 
everywhere 
On the shifting, lifting bottom of the deep 
blue sea? 
9 129 



L a y s fo r Li 1 1 1 e ( '/i <ip s 



At the bottom of the sea there is strangest 
mystery, 
For the queen of all the sprites is living 
there, 
With amber beads for eyes, and she lives on 
oyster fries, 
And she hates to hear the wicked sailors 
swear ; 

And her hair, 
It is fair ; 

It is fair, fair, fair ; 
It is very, very, very, very, very bright and 
fair ; 
And the fishes swim about through her 
palace in and out. 
Through the shifting, lifting water that is 
everywhere. 



But I want to tell you, dear, and 1 hope that 
you will hear, 
That really it is better to be living on the 
ground, 
Where the sights are not so queer, but the 
atmosphere is clear. 
And in order to enjoy it 't is n't needful to 
be drowned ; 

130 



At the Bottom of the Sea 

For you know 
(It is 80, 

And you should know, know) 
It is really, really chilly where the dim depths 
be; 
And it's surely very touL^h, yes, it certainly 
is rough, 
For you can't breathe a little in the deep blue 
sea. 



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131 



L (I ij s fo r Littl e Ch (ip s 




D 



DOROTHY'S 

WISDOM 



OROTHY'S the baby; she's but a 
tiny tot, 
But, oh, she knows so many things 
that I have loni!; forgot. 
She knows the thrill of laugliter ; she knows 

its music, too, 
And when her cheery voice rings out I listen — 
would n't you ? 

I listen, half-way smiling, and then it seems to 

me 
She knows just what tlie heaven is, and I 've 

forgot, you see. 
But one thing she knows better, e'en better 

than the rest ; 
She knows — ah, well she knows it — that her 

mother loves her best. 
132 



Dorothy' s Wisdom 



I write it half in envy, for she is dear to me, 
And so I sliovv her pictures as she sits upon my 

knee ; 
And I tiy to tell their stories in the words at 

my command. 
While she offers sage suggestions that I cannot 

understand. 
I listen to her chatter just to learn wliat she 

may tell ; 
I lay my siege unto her heart and think I "m 

doing well, 
And, even as I think it, she leaves her throne 

of rest 
And toddles to her mother, the one that loves 

her best. 



Oh, Dorothy, my baby, I think perhaps you're 

right : 
There is no love like mother-love this side the 

land of light. 
Though scanty be your knowledge of the path 

that you must tread 
And though it be but baby lore that fills your 

little head, 
Your wisdom is the highest when you seek your 

mother still 

133 



Lays fo r Littl c Ch ap s 



And deem her safest refuge from yuur every 

baby ill. 
I know that you are sagely right, yet grant my 

one request : 
If mother-love be best of love, please count 

mine second best. 




134 



77/ e Te a c/i er Kno w s 




WM 




THE TEACHER KNOWS 



ONE time my teacher said, says she : 
" It 's no use talkin' ; seems to me 
That you 're tlie worse boy that I 've 
got; 
You 're worser than the rest, a h)t. 
I 've whipped you, an' I 've scolded, too ; 
Don't make no difference what I do. 
You keep right on jus' zif I 'd not. 
Aint you the worst boy that I've got? " 
135 



Lays fo r Little Ch aps 



An' then my teaclier said, says she : 
'' Your case is always puzzlin' me. 
Now don't you know it liurts me, too. 
When scoldin' or a-whippin' you ? 




I always want you to be good 
An' actin' like a nice boy should, 
Because I love you." — Then she sighed. 
An' I — I — well, I up an' ciied. 

Since then my teacher 's gone away. 
An' 1 don't go to school an' play, 
An' study some, 's I used to do 
Before my schoolin' days was through. 
i:3G 



Th e T cache r Kn o w s 



But still my Teacher says, says He : 
" I 'm teacliin' you as seems to me 
Is best ; with sorrow's sting an' blow 
I 'm teachiu' you the way to go." 

An' then my Teacher says, says He : 
" If only you '11 look up to me 
Through eyes bcdimmed with trouble's rain, 
You '11 learn the lesson hid in pain. 
An' know, though cruel seems the blow, 
'T was dealt because I love you so." 
An,' though I 'm weary an' oppressed, 
I guess my Teacher knows the best. 



137 



L (( y s fo r Little C'h aj) s 




o^M 



SWIMMING ISN'T WHAT IT WAS 



OH, swimming is n't wliat it was ; 
The times liave clianged since wlien 
I used to swim six times a day, 
And then — go in again. 
I did n't need a bathing suit 
In those old days of glee ; 
The bathing suit that nature gave 
Was good enough for me. 
138 



Swimming Isn't IV hat It Was 

And if one did n't like the buff, 

Why, this tiling can be said : 
The sun was always good enough 

To partly paint it red. 
The boys don't duck nie as they did 

When I was three feet high, 
Nor dive beneath and pinch my legs — 

Will some one tell me why ? 

No more when I a swim have had 

My mother says to me, 
" You 've been in swimming, you bad boy ; 

Your hair is wet, I see." 
And I don't tell her as I did, 

With heart inclined to thump, 
" Xo, ma'am, I have n't swimmed at all ; 

I wet it at the pump." 

Ah, times have changed ; the stingful switch 

'No more is on my hide. 
As when my mother ascertained 

Her youthful son had lied. 
She used to say : " You 've been exposed 

To sickness all untold. 
And this, I think, my little boy, 

Will drive away a cold." 
139 



Lays for Little Chaps 



And then she warmed me ! I recall 

That scene through vistas dim. 
Slic made it lively for a time ; 

But, then — I had my swim ! 
Oh, golden days of lung ago, 

Come back, come back again. 
For swimming is n't what it was ; 

The times have chanfred since then. 




140 



My First Autograph 







MY FIRST AUTOGRAPH 



OH, don't I remember — I guess that 1 
<lo!- 
AMicii you asked uie to write in your 
book ? 
The iiioon of December was piercing the blue, 

And tlie eyes of the stars seemed to look, 
As you stood in the shadow. Heigho ! but the 
world 
ITas gone whirling and whirling since then ; 
V>\\i that was the night when the grass was 
im pearled 
By the dewdrops asleep in the glen. 

Oh, don't I remember — I certaiidy do ! — 
How I puzzled one-third of a night, 

Till the last dying ember had fallen in two, 
To make up my mind what to write ? 
141 



Lays for Little Chaps 



Then I wrote ('t was n't new) : " Tlie ro&e it is 
red, 
And the meek little violet 's blue, 
And the pink, it is sweet, " — it was thus that I 
said — 
" But not half so sweet as are you." 

Oh, don't I remember — be sure that I do ! — 

The staggering couplet I wrote ? 
I could n't have claimed for a moment 't was 
new — 
'T was my mother who told me to quote. 
But one thing I '11 say, as I look through the 
glow 
Of the dawn, little maiden, to you : 
Though I well might have written more sagely, 
I know, 
I could n't have written more true. 




142 



My Little Valentine 




MY LITTLE VALENTINE 



IF 1 could write a valentine 
To please a little love of mine ; 
If I could catcli some knack of metre 
To make her deem the music sweeter 
Than song of birds, 

The drone of bees, 
The loo of herds. 
The whisp'ring breeze. 
Why, I would write this valentine 
To please a little love of mine. 

If I could write a valentine 
All worthy of this love of mine. 
Its tinkling words must sweetly beat 
To rhythm of her tripping feet ; 
143 



Lays fo r Little Ch aj) s 



And it must reach 
The perfect key 
Of baby speech 
That gladdens me ; 
But, as such art were never mine, 
I kiss, instead, my valentine. 




144 



Hushaby, Lullaby 




HUSHABY, LULLABY 



HUSHABY, lulliiby, my little men ; 
The Sandman comes, but he goes 
again. 
Hushaby, lullaby, wee little maids ; 
The round world turns and it seeks the shades, 
And Sleep comes stealing adown, adown, 
And closes the eyes of blue or brown, 
And he weaves his net and it holds you 

thrall — 
Hushaby, lullaby, little ones all. 

Hushaby, lullaby. One little star 
Is peeping adown from afar, so far 
That its great white light is a slender beam 
When it reaches the world where the babies 
dream ; 
10 145 



L a !/s fo r Little C/i a p s 



A slender beam that can only kiss 
The wee little lieads — for it came for this — 
Ere it dies away in a glimmer small — 
Hushaby, lullaby, little ones all. 

Hushaby, lullaby. Life is a maze 

Where blindly we wander through wearisome 

days. 
Through wearisome days when the spirit is 

numb, 
Till out of the shadows the little ones come ; 
Then mothers stoop to them to kiss and caress, 
And the souls of the fathers they gladden and 

bless ; 
For straight from the heavens God's angels 

they call — 
Hushaby, lullaby, little ones all. 




146 



When Baby Bloiveth Kisses 




WHEN BABY BLOWETH KISSES 



WHEX baby blowetb kisses 
From fingers pink and wee, 
Like some sweet rain of blisses 
To cheer my heart and me, 
I care not then how utter 

Or stern tlie day's demands, 
While I watch the flutter, flutter 
Of the waving little hands. 
147 



Lays for Little Chaps 



Wlicn baby blowcth kisses 

To nie, upon the street, 
She sometimes says : " Now zis is 

A kiss 'at 's vetvy sweet : " 
And I tell her ere I leave her 

'T was better than the rest, 
And, faith ! I don't deceive her, 

For each of them is best. 

When baby bloweth kisses, 

The bees that seek their store 
In blossoms' pink abysses, 

Might turn to her for more ; 
And, oh, her laughter ringeth 

Like some sweet fairy bell ; 
And, oh, my old heart singeth 

A song no words may tell. 

When baby bloweth kisses — 
Ye men whose years increase. 

While life the pathway 
\x misses 

To summer lands of 

peace, 

J; Now tell me if there lingers 

Elsewhere a single bliss 

To match the little fingers 

That waft to you a kiss. 

148 




DEC 1902 




LIBRARY 0'^,[^.°m||^n|| 
''™ 018 395 498 2 



